


Slow Down

by suckerfordeansfreckles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Divergent Fusion, Amity Castiel, Amity Faction, Barebacking, Bondage, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Dauntless Dean Winchester, Dauntless Faction, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gentle Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Inspired by Divergent, Light Bondage, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rope Bondage, Sub Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 16:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suckerfordeansfreckles/pseuds/suckerfordeansfreckles
Summary: Sometimes Dean isn't even sure how they started this. How he even got this close to Cas, an Amity through and through.An Amity and a Dauntless. Some might laugh about it, tell them they could never make it work — but Dean and Cas fit better than Dean would ever fit with another Dauntless, than he could ever fit with anyone else. Cas is the first person, the first thing in the world, really, that makes him feel like he can slow down, stop, breathe for a bit.





	Slow Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaninchenfront](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaninchenfront/gifts).



> This story takes place in the Divergent universe - based on the Divergent trilogy by Veronica Roth (and was heavily inspired by all the feelings I had after rewatching all three [Divergent, Insurgent, Allegiant] movies a few weeks ago).
> 
> For all of you who haven’t read/watched, [HERE](https://divergent.fandom.com/wiki/Factions) is a quick rundown of the universe and the different factions that will be mentioned. :)

One of these days, Dean thinks, one of these days someone will call him out on his bullshit. “Heard about some trouble by the Amity, I’ll drive out and check it out real quick,” only serves as an excuse ever so often. And it’s the Amity. If there ever was trouble with them, it was rare enough to be a once-in-a-year type of thing. Not a weekly situation.

 

Ketch has sent him some weird looks lately, but Ketch has always been weird around him, so Dean doesn’t think much about it.

 

He can’t think about much of anything except Cas these days, anyway. Every second he’s not out guarding the fence, or patrolling the streets to make sure that no Factionless gets up to funny business, he spends with Cas on his mind. But it’s especially hard when he’s driving out of the city through the high grass, knowing exactly what and who is waiting for him. 

 

Sometimes he’s not even sure how they started this. How he even got this close to Cas, an Amity through and through. An Amity and a Dauntless. Some might laugh about it, tell them they could never make it work — but Dean and Cas fit better than Dean would ever fit with another Dauntless, than he could ever fit with anyone else. Cas is the first person, the first thing in the world, really, that makes him feel like he can slow down, stop, breathe for a bit. 

 

They met through Sam, Dean’s younger Erudite brother, when he decided that Dean should meet his weed guy — for whatever reason that was. How Sam, Erudite to boot, structured and strict and healthy and clean and a little snooty, smokes weed — Dean still isn’t so sure. But he carries his joints in the pockets of his fancy suits, and that is a thing Dean will forever laugh about.

 

When Dean first saw Cas, he was standing barefoot in the field like the perfect image of an Amity, wearing his cotton pants low on his hips, a breezy white shirt that slipped off of his left shoulder, he looked absolutely beautiful and a little entrancing — and Dean wasn’t sure at all what to make of him. But then they talked for a little bit, and while Cas’ low gravelly voice immediately pulled his interest, his intelligence did so even more. He’s so incredibly clever, both in a bookish way and in a way related to seemingly everything in life. He’s gentle, with nature and plants and animals, and Dean. Dean has never had anyone be this gentle with him before.

 

Dean returned, not even a week later, in the guise of wanting to buy weed for himself.

 

And he kept returning, with stupid little excuses — up until, a few weeks in, Cas bluntly looked up at him from where he was rolling a joint for them to share, and asked: “What do you think, when will you be ready to admit that you want to fuck me? I’m very patient, but I’d rather you hurry up a little. All this waiting is making me… antsy.”

 

Dean choked a little on his next breath, but after he got his lungs sorted, and Cas still watched him with a lazy grin and a cocked eyebrow, making a move wasn’t very hard anymore.

 

And now Cas has him sneaking out of the city and into the Amity terrain almost every day. He has him wrapped around his finger, absolutely and entirely, and Dean loves it as much as Cas does. Dean is lucky to have such a high position at the Dauntless — and Cas is lucky to be an Amity. None of the other Amity seem to care much about Dean’s visits, as long as he stays peaceful and quiet and doesn’t cause any trouble. They also seem to know that he has nothing on his mind but to crowd Cas into the bed of his little wooden hut, or against a tree in the woods, and then keep him there until Dean has to drive back into the city.

 

They always stay hidden away from everyone, in the hours they have together. Tangled between sheets or clothes or grass, kissing or grinding or, most of the time, just holding each other close. They haven’t been together for a long time, like this, but Dean is already in deep enough to just want to be near Cas. Just to touch him, and breathe him in, flowery and earthy and amazing. Just be with him, in this soft quietude that Dean’s life has never had before.

 

Being a Dauntless is awesome, is all Dean ever wanted — mostly. The people are awesome, loud and rough and fun, daring and not bothered about a bit of blood or dirt. He’s been with them for a few years when the guys a little higher up in hierarchy decided to try and make something out of his potential. He’s training newbies like he once was, now.

 

Sometimes, though, it takes a while for him to forget about his faction, about his people, his duties and the things he has done. Today feels like one of those days, he thinks as he drives past the last remains of what once were houses. He doesn’t want to think about the young Factionless he had to stop today — from stealing from the Candor. They were just looking for some money for food, he knows that. He’s almost been there himself after their mother died, when he and Sam spent more time out on the streets than home with their drunk father. 

 

Cas always knows exactly how to help him get out of his mind, though.

 

Dean doesn’t really realize that he’s arrived, not really, but somehow he comes back into his mind when his hand twists and shuts the engine off on auto-pilot. Cas is already waiting for him, standing in the open door of his hut with a soft smile.

 

Dean’s heart trips in his chest, stumbles and surges, and then  _ he  _ stumbles, closes the last few steps between them and falls into Cas’ embrace. Cas arms close around his back, warm and steady, and Dean can’t help but bury his nose in the crook of Cas’ neck.

 

“Everything alright?” Cas asks against Dean’s hair, warm and a little worried, and Dean’s heart jumps again.

 

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Just a shitty day, up until right now.”

 

The noise Cas makes in answer is somewhere between worried and delighted, and he pulls Dean impossibly closer to his chest. “I love you,” he murmurs, and though it’s the first time either of them really said it out loud — it feels real, irrevocable, true. Inevitable.

 

“I love you too,” Dean breathes back against the skin of Cas’ neck, pressing soft kisses against Cas’ skin to follow his words.

 

Cas finally pulls him all the way into his hut, closing the door after them with the arm not currently wrapped around Dean’s waist, and then they wobble their way towards his bed with their bodies intertwined. 

 

Dean falls down on Cas’ mattress first, Cas following him with a smile half feral and half love-drunk. He climbs up into Dean’s lap, arms coming up to cup his stubbly cheeks, and then Cas dives in to kiss him.

 

It’s as it has always been — electric, and addicting, and so good Dean wants to live in it forever. Wants to never feel anything in the world except the plushness of Cas lips, his taste, his tongue tracing against Dean’s bottom lip — up until Cas pulls off to trail kisses down Dean’s neck, hands moving down to sneak beneath Dean’s shirt. He’s still in all of his clothes, still wearing his heavy leather jacket, but Cas seems intent on changing that now. 

 

In a flurry of movement Cas starts pulling off layers and layers of Dean’s clothes and dumps them on the floor unceremoniously. He gets up from Dean’s lap briefly, to untie Dean’s combat boots and pull them off his feet, and then he lets Dean’s jeans and underwear follow. 

 

Dean watches Cas as he pulls his own shirt over his head, exposes so many of the things Dean loves about him; his broad shoulders, his slim waist, his toned tummy, the cut of his hips. When Cas steps out of his own pants and briefs, Dean can’t help the way his mouth waters and his gaze drops. Cas’ thighs are the stuff dreams are about, thick and muscular and  _ lovely _ , and the way his cock is resting between them is just delicious.

 

Cas huffs a laugh that has Dean raising his eyes back to his face in record time, cheeks bleeding pink. “You want something?” Cas asks, moving back between Dean’s legs.

 

When Dean doesn’t answer, he starts kissing his way up Dean’s thighs, his stomach, his chest. He completely ignores Dean’s nipples, just makes a soft slow trail up until their faces are inches apart. It’s an almost-kiss so heavy with tension, Dean wants nothing more than to reach up and pull Cas against his lips. He knows he’s not allowed, though. 

 

Cas smiles, adoring but a little dangerous, and then dips down to finally, finally kiss Dean again. He keeps the kiss soft, quick, and then pulls off to look into Dean’s eyes, head tilted a little. “You want me to take you mind off of your day?”

 

He’s barely gotten his question out when Dean starts nodding, head flying eagerly. “Please,” he murmurs, and then he gets to watch the way Cas’ body bends to the side and stretches as he moves to fish for something beneath his bed. He comes up with some rope, soft and light blue and beautiful, and a wink that has Dean’s heart speeding up.

 

Then he raises onto his knees and says: “Scoot down a little and lie back, hands above your head.” 

 

Dean obliges in seconds, not only because he wants nothing more than what Cas is about to do to him, if he’s good — there’s also that tone in his voice, gentle and trusting and proud. Proud to have Dean, like this.

 

Dean scoots up, raises his hands until they rest on the mattress above his head, fingers brushing against the wood of Cas’ headboard. Cas watches with a soft smile, moving up until he can straddle Dean again, and Dean barely manages not to moan at the way his cock now rests between Cas’ soft cheeks.

 

Cas leans forward, dips down to press a quick, hard kiss against Dean’s lips, and then stretches further until he reaches Dean’s hands, fingers of his left hand loosely clasped around his right wrist. “Good boy,” Cas murmurs, guiding Dean’s hands around one of the wooden stilts of his headboard. He has Dean tied against it in seconds, movement and knots well-practiced, Dean bound loose enough for it to be comfortable, but tight enough that his hands can’t slip out if he moves.

 

He makes a content sound, head cocked as he traces along the rope to make sure it’s not too tight, and when Dean confirms so with a breathless “all good”, he leans back to settle in Dean’s lap again. He knows exactly what he’s doing to Dean, the smile on his face a tiny bit too cocky for it to be any other way, but Dean can’t never be mad.

 

Because Cas knows perfectly well how much Dean loves when he teases him a little — but he also knows that Dean can’t take much of it on bad days, usually. Somehow he seems to always know just when to stop. 

 

Dean is already rock-hard beneath Cas, has been even before Cas tightened the rope around his wrists, and every little shift of Cas’ weight in his lap has him biting back little whimpers of pleasure. 

 

Cas’ hands come down to Dean’s chest, brushing over his shoulders and pecs and stomach. Cas stops his movement when his right hand rests above Dean’s heart, beating steady but excited, and then he leans down and kisses Dean again.

 

This time it’s long and deep, sinful in a way that tells Dean that Cas needs this today, as well. Maybe as badly as Dean does, with how he seems to collapse into their kiss, until he’s lying on top of Dean, chest pressed to chest, and can bury his hands in Dean’s hair. It’s almost as wild as Cas’, these days.

 

He keeps kissing Dean messy and hot, even as he stretches again — to reach for the lube on his nightstand, this time. The click of the cap has Dean’s cock twitching, almost like conditioned, and Cas breaks the kiss with a huff of a laugh. “Excited?” he murmurs, and then sits up a little to slick up his fingers. 

 

Dean loves this so much, he can’t really put it into words — when Cas opens himself up on top of him, one hand braced on Dean’s chest and the other behind him, where Dean can’t see, unfortunately. The way he sighs and moans, raised up on his knees just far enough so he’s not touching Dean anymore. It’s the best type of torture, the way his mouth goes slack and Dean can’t kiss it — the noises he makes, and Dean can’t touch him. Can’t let his hands trace down Cas’ shaking sides, can’t press kisses to his collarbone, can’t touch him, press into where he must be wet with lube, where he would open up readily for Dean’s fingers at this point.

 

Cas just smirks, breathless and flushed, head lolling back, as he rides back down against his fingers. He smirks, and watches Dean writhe and whine, trapped beneath him and not feeling anything but the warmth of Cas’ knees where they press into the sides of Dean’s thighs, the delicious grip of rope around his wrists, the cold, wooden headboard beneath his fingers.

 

It’s too much, that longing to touch, that unableness to do so, so Dean closes his eyes against it and just listen — listens to the small puffs of air, the hitches in Cas’ breath, the low moans slipping from his lips. “Dean,” he mumbles, and Dean presses his eyes shut tighter, sure that he can’t watch without bursting apart with pleasure. “Think I’m almost ready,” Cas says breathlessly, “almost ready for you.”

 

Dean can’t help the whine that claws its way out of his throat, and neither can he stop the sad little attempt at breaking free from where he’s bound. 

 

He hears a happy little hum, and then the rustling of Cas wiping his hand on the sheets beside Dean’s chest, and then he finally feels Cas’ hands come down on Dean’s chest again. Cas’ soft lips push down against Dean’s, and Dean has a hard time concentrating on the kiss with the way his breath rushes out of his chest at the gentleness of Cas’ mouth. It’s only seconds later that Cas pulls away from his lips and then settles down in Dean’s lap again, ass rubbing against his dick in the best way possible, and Dean forgets how to breathe altogether.

 

His eyes fly open without him really meaning to, and he finds Cas’ face so close to his own, blue eyes blown with lust, admiration, love. He got his own eyes open just in time to watch Cas reach behind himself again, this time to wrap his fingers around Dean’s leaking cock, guiding him up against his hole, warm and wet and so enticing. He lets it trace his rim, lets Dean whimper and want, for just a little while longer.

 

“Please,” Dean whispers, fingers spasming around the headboard. “Please, Cas.”

 

And that seems to do it, seems to be all Cas needs, because he’s pressing the head of Dean’s cock against himself, now, until Dean’s slipping inside, is sucked into his wet heat. 

 

It’s too much already, and they haven’t even really begun, so Dean is infinitely glad when Cas sinks down on his cock with a lovely little sigh and then just sits, chin dropped to his chest and watching Dean through hooded eyes. He’s breathing a little harder already, too, and his voice is a little hoarse when he asks: “All good?”

 

Dean can only nod happily, eyes roaming over Cas’ flushed cheeks, his chest, his thighs on either side of Dean’s own. At his cock, hard and red and leaking, standing up against Cas’ tummy proudly. He wants to see it bob as Cas moves on top of him, grinds down against him, and before he even really thought it through, he’s pulling on his restraints and murmuring, quiet and a little lost: “You ready? Please, Cas, I need more of you.”

 

Cas laughs, low and throaty, and then his other hand comes down to rest on Dean’s chest, warm and broad, and with the added balance he starts to roll his hips. He’s gentle, very slow in his movement, but the way he’s squeezing around Dean’s cock is more than enough to have him moaning for more, for faster.

 

Slowly building his rhythm, the little grinds and rolls of his hips start to get faster, and Dean finally gets to watch the way his cock slaps up against Cas’ stomach gently. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” Dean murmurs, entranced with the way Cas’ hips move, the little sounds of pleasure he makes.

 

“Yeah?” Cas breathes, raising up on his knees and dropping down onto Dean in a way that has both of their voices breaking in a moan. “You too, Dean, so fucking good for me. So beautiful. Perfect.”

 

He moves down to kiss Dean again, and Dean knows that the angle is making his cock brush against Cas’ prostate by the way Cas gasps for breath against his lips, keening high in his throat. 

 

“Yeah?” Dean asks, lips brushing against Cas’. He moves a little until he gets his feet flat on the mattress, steady enough so that he can thrust up into Cas once, just to test things.

 

“Fuck,” Cas whimpers. “More, Dean, just like that.”

 

And then there’s really no holding Dean back. He starts fucking up into Cas, fast and hard right from the start, and Cas’ weight sags down onto Dean’s chest, hands slipping where they rest on him. 

 

Cas’ head drops into the crook of Dean’s neck, his breath hot when he buries his moans in the soft skin of Dean’s neck. It takes a few seconds for him to adjust to the the way Dean is fucking him, but then he starts meeting Dean’s thrust with his own rolling hips, fingers holding onto Dean’s chest hard enough for his nails to leave little crescent marks.

 

“Yes, yes, perfect,” Cas moans, breath and voice stuttering against their thrusts, and Dean is right there with him. 

 

He’s ready to burst, already, can feel his dick throbbing inside Cas already. “Cas,” he says, “fuck, ‘m gonna come soon if you don’t slow down.  _ Please _ .”

 

Cas just bites down on the skin of Dean’s neck, and the movement of his hips gets even more frantic, his dick bobbing up and down, slapping against their bellies. “Dean,” he breathes, and the filthy grind of his hips has both of them groaning. “So good for me. I want you to make me come, and then fill me up.”

 

Dean’s head drops back on the next helpless moan, and then his thrusts gain impossibly more strength and he’s fucking up into Cas until he’s shaking on top of him. 

 

One of Cas’ hands comes away from Dean’s chest to wrap around his cock, and the first drag of his fingers over it makes him shiver with pleasure. “Yes,” he breathes again, moving down against Dean and back up into his own fist, moans and groans twining together into what Dean can only call a desperate whine, and then Cas stops his movement, body locking up and ass squeezing around Dean’s dick, and comes all over Dean’s chest with a violent shiver.

 

“Dean, fuck,” he shudders, dropping on Dean’s lap and shaking in a way that has Dean hurling towards the edge after him. “Fuck, come on, come for me,” he murmurs, breathless and gone, his eyes dropping shut in wrung-out pleasure. 

 

And then he grinds down against Dean’ cock and squeezes around him, and paired with those raspy words, Dean’s breath flies out of his chest and he comes hard and dizzying, too. He paints Cas’ insides white, shudders and shakes and pushes up into him frantically until the feeling gets too much — until he drops back to the bed with one last moan, his cock slipping from between Cas’ cheeks, and Cas does the same.

 

He follows with a content little noise, buries down against Dean’s chest and wraps him up in his arms and soft, sloppy kisses. 

 

It takes a few minutes of just being, just touching and catching their breaths before either of them remember that Dean’s still bound. When they do, Cas unties him with quick, practiced movements, and then drops back down onto him and pulls Dean’s arms around him.

 

“I love you,” Cas says again, fingers roaming over Dean’s upper arms. “Always so good for me, perfect for me.”

 

“Love you too,” Dean murmurs back, nose sinking into Cas’ messy, soft hair. It’s hard to fight sleep during times like these, when he feels safe and happy and sated in a way only Cas can make him feel. When they are wrapped around each other, Dean’s body always seems to try to get all the sleep it doesn’t usually get during nights he’s not with his love. “There is nobody in the world more perfect for me than you.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find [me](https://suckerfordeansfreckles.tumblr.com/) and a rebloggable version of this story on Tumblr! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this silly thing :') <3


End file.
